


Augusta, 2020

by eden22



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Infidelity, Like, M/M, at all, kappy is.... not a nice guy in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22532818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eden22/pseuds/eden22
Summary: to quote the tweet that provoked this, “I need freddie to dickmatize willy this golf trip so when they come back he stays tf away from kappy”
Relationships: Frederik Andersen/William Nylander, Kasperi Kapanen/William Nylander
Comments: 36
Kudos: 166





	1. Chapter 1

Willy gasped, the sound loud against the distance sound of birdsong as lips dragged down the side of his throat, the harsh scrape of beard making his skin prickle. He felt like he was burning up, far too hot as the large hands holding onto his hips adjusted their grip, tugging him back, forcing the cock inside him impossibly deeper. Willy’s hands twisted on the balcony railing and he bit his lip to try and keep another gasp from escaping, eyes fluttering shut on the sight of the sun setting over the long expanse of carefully manicured lawn. It felt so good, too good, the press of cock inside him, huge and deep, the harsh grip of the fingers dimpling his skin, the way they were moving together, so in sync that you would think that they had done this hundreds of times before, that you would never guess that this was the first time that–

“Yeah, just like that,” Freddie said, his voice quiet but unmissable in the cool, still evening air.

“God Freddie, please…” Willy trailed off on a whimper as Freddie’s cock slid over his prostate; painful, perfect. 

“Yeah, I got you,” Freddie said, keeping up that same, steady pace, back and forth, over and over again, a relentless build of pressure that Willy could feel in his throat. He couldn’t keep his gasps in anymore, was being loud, louder than he should be, loud enough that someone could notice, someone could hear, from the balcony next to them or even maybe on the grounds of the resort below them. Curious eyes, searching up through the night, maybe able to spot the way the last dying rays of sunlight were catching on Willy’s hair, maybe able to see the way his face was twisted in helpless pleasure. Maybe just able to make out the shape of the man behind him, controlling him, taking him apart. 

“Fuck,” Willy said, letting go of the railing with one hand to raise it behind his head, tangle his fingers in Freddie’s hair, tugging at it. “Fuck, Fred–”

“Will,” Freddie said, and he sounded so fucking in control compared to WIlly – to the harsh breaths being torn from his lungs, the helpless little noises leaking from him, the way he kept saying Freddie’s name. “Willy. Is that?”

“Yeah,” Willy said, not even sure what he was agreeing too, would agree to anything so long as Freddie didn’t stop, never stopped. He didn’t stop though, just sped up, and Willy had to drop his other hand back to the railing, muscles in his arms straining to keep him upright, to stop the force of Freddie’s hips smacking into his ass from sending him into the railing. Freddie was dragging him back onto his dick as much as he was thrusting forward into Willy but it didn’t matter, didn’t make a difference, because he was just so big that he was threatening to topple Willy anyways. He was shaking; with the effort of keeping himself upright, with the sensations that were overwhelming his entire body. He couldn’t think around the feeling of Freddie driving into him, so fucking deep, so fucking big. He felt like he had been broken down piece by piece until all that was left of him were the sensations winding through his body, the overwhelming desire for _more, more, oh please god more_. 

“Fuck,” Freddie said, his voice rough, and he fucked into Willy harder and harder until Willy couldn’t help it anymore, until his hands slid along the railing and he stumbled foward. Freddie swore again as Willy swayed, tried to get his balance back. Freddie pulled out, and Willy whimpered. Instead of letting him get repositioned though, Freddie just turned him around, guiding him the short distance between them and the patio couch where it sat, backing against the wall of the hotel. Willy stumbled on shaking legs, going easily when Freddie pushed him down, flat onto his back and then Freddie was over him, around him, blocking out everything around him as he slid back into Willy, Willy throwing his head back, mouth open in a helpless, silent, cry. 

Freddie braced one hand on the arm of the couch, wrapping the other around and over Willy’s shoulder, holding him in place as he resumed fucking him, harder and faster and even more in control than he had been. Willy was helpless to do anything but lie there and take it, his arms wrapped around Freddie’s shoulder, one of his legs thrown up and around Freddie’s hips, opening himself up for Freddie, welcoming him inside him over and over again. He was shaking apart on Freddie’s cock, helpless little noises of pleasure accompanying the sound of their bodies coming together in the silence of the evening. He could hear the occasional person in the distance, walking below them, but now, tucked away against the wall, it felt even more removed, and he couldn’t worry about the fact that someone might know, might hear. Kind of wanted it even, wanted people to know how good Freddie’s cock was, how completely he was breaking Willy down with nothing more than the slide of his dick in and out of Willy’s hole, how open Willy was for it, how much he wanted it. His throat felt like it was closing up, like he couldn’t possibly get enough air into his lungs, and his spine arched up as Freddie shoved in and out, in and out until he couldn’t take it anymore, felt like he was about to burst open, overflowing with sensation, with how perfectly Freddie was fucking him. 

“I’m gonna–” he gasped out, but Freddie didn’t say anything, didn’t acknowledge the implied plea, just speed up, the sounds of his hips meeting Willy’s ass almost vicious, hard smacking noises as he rocked Willy’s entire body back and forth and back and forth. When Willy finally comes he thinks he might have blacked out for a second, comes back with the meat of Freddie’s shoulder between his teeth, victim to a last-ditch instinct to smother a shout of pleasure. The wet slide of his cum where it was smearing on his stomach between them was second to how much closer Freddie’s thrusts were verging towards pain, but when Freddie moved like he was going to pull away, Willy wrapped his other leg around him, whimpered his disagreement into the crook of Freddie’s neck. 

“No, please, inside me, please, keep–” Freddie gasps, and Willy breaks off but it’s enough to keep Freddie moving, keep him fucking Willy, shoving his cock deep inside of him until he’s shuddering too, and Willy can feel him twitching as his hips stutter and he cums, inside Willy, spilling wet and hot, enough that Willy would swear he could feel it through the condom. Willy’s chest is slick with sweat and he can’t get enough air into his lungs as Freddie rolls off of him, the couch wide enough for him to slot into the space beside Willy easily, tugging him towards his chest. Willy goes, rolling into Freddie’s chest, burying his face in the hot skin he finds there. He breaths, feels his heart rate slowly begin to tick downwards. Freddie’s fingers are soft against his skin where they are stroking over his shoulders, his back, his ass, soothing, purposeless motions. 

“Fuck,” he finally says, half laughing, and feels Freddie’s chest shake beneath his cheek in a silent laugh. 

“Yeah,” Freddie agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [hmu on twitter](https://twitter.com/thotlander)


	2. Chapter 2

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Willy asked, his grip gone lax on the phone in his hand, staring up in shock. Kappy didn’t look at him, too busy holding up a shirt against himself in the mirror. 

“What do you think?” he asks. 

“Yeah, you look good,” Willy replies without actually looking at the shirt. _You always look good,_ he thinks, but doesn’t say. “What do you mean you’re not coming?” he repeats. 

Kappy shrugs, throws the shirt onto the bed next to Willy and finally looks over at him, meeting his eyes. 

“I mean she just came back to the city so we decided it’d be good to spend the week together instead of me going away.” The _with you_ goes unspoken.

“But–” Willy said, and his brain is having trouble processing this, can’t seem to wrap itself around the fact that Kappy is, what, _abandoning_ him. “You said you’d come,” he finishes weakly, and Kappy shrugs. 

“Yeah but that was before–” _Back when you’d been dumped_ Willy thinks bitterly, _back when she still wasn’t taking your calls_. “–and I think it’s just like, important to spend time with her right now.” Kappy picks another shirt out of his closet, holds it up in front of himself, going right back to ignoring Willy. 

Willy blinks once, twice, feeling sluggish and stupid. 

“You’re really getting back together with her?” he says, and immediately regrets it when Kappy gives him a sharp look. 

“She loves me” Kappy says, carefully going back to looking in the mirror. He meets Willy’s eyes in the reflection. “I love her,” he says, and Willy tries his best not to give him the satisfaction of whatever reaction he’s looking for. He swallows, tries not to think about how only two days earlier Kappy had kissed him in this bedroom, wrapped up together under the covers, his lips soft and sweet as he’d looked at Willy like there was nothing else in his life, like there was no one else he’d rather be with. 

“She forgave you?” he asks, because if Kappy wants to play knives with him, he can do that too. Kappy just grins though, and Willy tastes bile. He turns around, throwing the second shirt on top of the first. 

“Of course she did,” he said, meeting Willy’s eyes. “She knows it was a mistake.” It would have hurt less if Kappy had slapped him, but still Willy doesn’t react. 

“Does she know how long–”

“No,” Kappy says sharply, and when Willy leans back from him he sighs, puts his head down and runs his hands through his hair, pushing it off his face in a gesture as familiar to Willy as breathing. “No, and she’s not going to find out, right?” he asks, looking back up, catching Willy in his stare. Willy swallows, shakes his head. He really doesn’t know if it would be crueler to tell her or not, but knows that either way he won’t say anything to her. She’s already taken… well. She couldn’t have this, too. 

“Not from me,” he says, and Kappy grins, reaches out to stroke his hand down the side of Willy’s face, letting his thumb rest for a second on the centre of Willy’s lower lip. 

“You’re really the best best friend anyone could ask for,” he says, “I ever tell you that?” Willy rolls his eyes, putting on an unaffected voice even as his guts churn, even as he feels like he’s about to start crying and never stop. 

“Could stand to hear it more often,” he says, the back and forth still familiar and easy at least, easy enough that he doesn’t have to think, can let the words just fall from his mouth. Kappy looks down at him for a long moment, then reaches up and runs his hand back through Willy’s hair, leaving his hand cupped around the back of Willy’s head. 

“She’s not going to be back for a couple hours still,” he says, and Willy knows. He knows he should tell Kappy to fuck off. Should yell at him for being so presumptuous, for doing this to Willy again, for doing this to _her_ again. No matter how much Willy hates her, sometimes, for what she gets to have, her existence alone should be enough to make him stand up. Make him leave and never come back again. 

Instead, he just reaches forward, unbuttons Kappy’s jeans. 

Kappy’s cock in his mouth is as familiar as the sharp bite of regret in his chest as he slides to his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't done yet but it shouldn't be too long and also people on twitter encouraged me to post while it's still being written so this is their fault, really


	3. Chapter 3

Willy is equal parts thrilled and embarrassed to realize he can’t quite walk right the next day. He doesn’t think it’s so noticeable that anyone else would pick on it, though he does catch Freddie watching him walk back to the table from the breakfast buffet with a smug look on his face. He glares when he catches his eye, but it just makes Freddie smile wider, and Willy has to turn his head away so Freddie can’t see him give in, can’t see the smile that is threatening the corners of his own mouth. 

They spend the entire day on the golf course again. Freddie is still more enthusiastic than he is good, though they all admit, while watching him search for his ball in the long grass at the 8th hole, that he has gotten a lot better since they’d all started golfing together. Rasmus reminds them that he wasn’t even in the country back then, which is all the excuse they need to bring up every single embarrassing story any of them have about Freddie’s misadventures with golf. Willy watches the way that a flush slowly begins to creep across the back of Freddie’s neck even as he maintains his signature stone-faced demeanour in the face of their relentless chirps and can’t help but think back to the way his skin had flushed the previous night. He has to swallow and look away, staring out across the course until he feels like he’s gotten a grip again. 

When they stop for lunch, Willy pulls out his phone for the first time that day, going to Instagram almost on autopilot. There’s a new story from Kappy on his public Instagram, another on his private. He swallows, clicks on the public one first, watches the video of him playing with her– with _their_ dog. The video finishes, closing and leaving him back on his feed. He debates, for a second, not watching the other one, the green ring taunting him with the knowledge that it’s probably meant for him and him alone – unless Kappy had added more people to his close friends list on his private since the previous week, when he’d shown Willy that he was the only person left on that list, joked that Willy was the only one that was really there for him, the only hoe he could trust. Willy glanced around, made sure no one was looking at him, took a breath, swore at himself, and tapped the circle. 

It’s a video. 

Willy’s phone is on mute, so he just watches in silence as Kappy’s lips move as he says something and she laughs, turning away from the camera to lean in and kisses Kappy. They kiss until the timer runs out, and the frame turns over to the next part of the story and – Willy angles his phone down, checks to make sure no one was watching, that no one else saw. They weren’t, too caught up in whatever story Goat is telling, all eyes on him as he gestures wildly. Willy waits a second, tries to will his heartbeat to slow back down, before he finally turns his phone back upright. He flips back to the video first and checks the timestamp on it – 21 hours ago, yesterday afternoon – and then flips forward again to the photo following it. It’s from less than 10 hours ago which would put it… around two in the morning. It’s dark, which makes the white text Kappy has laid over it stand out even more, the blockish letters asking him “miss me?” forming a small, straight line of text at the bottom of the screen underscoring the contents of the photograph. Kappy’s cock is hard in his hand, and as Willy watches the timer tick down, as he lets the story flip over onto the next account, he can’t help but wonder where she was when he’d taken it. Had they fucked earlier, or maybe not at all? Had Kappy just woken up in the middle of the night, hard and wanting, and thought of Willy first before he’d thought of her, thought of anyone else? He swallows, raises his head to take ahold of his glass of wine and meets Freddie’s eyes across the table. The other man’s gaze is steady, considering, and Willy can only meet it for a second before he has to look away, feeling something like shame bloom in his stomach. 

He’s distracted, the rest of the day, can’t focus on golf, on the conversations happening around him, too stuck on the memory of that photograph. Kappy had written “miss me?” but what if what he’d actually been saying was that he missed Willy? He had never been happy with her, not really, or else he wouldn’t have kept fucking Willy their entire relationship. Most of the time Willy tried not to think about it, tried not to think about the fact that Kappy would fuck Willy over the arm of his couch and then go right back to his apartment where she was waiting for him. Kappy had cried when she’d finally caught them, had told her it was a mistake, that it didn’t mean anything, that it was the first time he’d done it – as if he hadn’t been pushing Willy to his knees in the bathroom during the Halloween party while she hung out with the other girlfriends in the kitchen, as if he hadn’t fucked Willy in their bed when she was out of town visiting her family. It had hurt, a knife to the gut, twisting deeper and deeper while blood rose on his tongue, but the thing was… The thing was that Willy _knew_ it was a lie. It wasn’t a mistake, couldn’t be, not when Kappy would be so sweet with him, would bring him flowers and kiss him soft and slow in hotel rooms and bar bathrooms, would whisper how much he loved Willy as he slid inside of him. It was Willy’s fault too, always had been, because he hadn’t ever worked up the guts to ask him to leave her, to ask him to choose Willy. Though… it wouldn’t be fair of him to do that either, not with them being professional athletes, not with them playing in the league they did. Both of them had so much to lose, so no matter how much Kappy might love him it made sense that he would _need_ her in a way he never could need Willy, not publicly anyways. They had no choice but to hide and lie and if Kappy didn’t message Willy back for a week straight, if his eyes slid right over Willy at a party as if Willy wasn’t there, well, it was what they both had to do. Kappy didn’t have any other choice. 

Dinner is good, is fun, and Willy tries, tired after a day of not being able to get his mind to shut off, of only half-listening to his friends, to actually be present. It works too, kind of, and he’s giggling into his second glass of wine when he meets Freddie’s eyes again. His gaze is just as intense as it was at lunch but Willy doesn’t look away this time. 

They leave together, the second dessert is done, and Willy knows that they’re probably being rude, that their mutual excuses of being tired sound fake even as he tries to put as much sincerity behind the words as he can muster. He feels their eyes on them as they leave, and it makes a familiar fear prickle at the base of his spine, but at the same time he can’t be bothered to care, not with how Freddie ushers him into the elevator, his huge hand a hot pressure against the small of Willy’s back.


	4. Chapter 4

Willy had thought he was imagining things, the first day they were at the resort. He had been standing by the bar next to the pool waiting for the bartender when Freddie had come up behind him, leaned into his space – too far into his space – to joke about Willy making sure he had enough sunscreen on. Willy had turned to glare up at him just as the bartender finally turned his way, but before he had the chance to turn back Freddie was already looking up, ordering drinks for both of them with a confidence that made Willy flush. When the drinks came Freddie handed Willy his, fingers lingering just a little bit too long before he picked up his own drink. Freddie held up his plastic cup towards Willy. 

“Want to make a toast?”

“What?” Willy had asked, laughing. “What would we make a toast to?” Freddie shrugged, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“How about… how about to friendship?” 

“Oh my god that’s so cheesy,” Willy said, laughing again even as he tapped his cup against Freddie’s before taking a long drink of the syrupy sweet drink. The taste of tequila lingered on his tongue as Freddie lowered his own cup, still looking at him.

“What?” Willy asked, fidgeting under his attention, reaching up to nervously tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. 

“Nothing,” Freddie said, with that same secretive half smile. 

Willy followed him across the deck to where they had abandoned their stuff on a pair of loungers. Freddie settled into his seat, taking another pull from his drink before picking up his book. Willy kept looking at him out of the corner of his eye even as he settled into his own seat, pulling out his phone without thinking. He didn’t realize he was expecting – hoping – for a message until he felt his stomach sink when he saw there were no new notifications. He bit his lip, staring down at his phone. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked over, Freddie was still staring intently down at his book. 

They took turns, after that, going back to the bar to get drinks, and between the tequila layering his tongue and the hot sun soaking into his skin, it didn’t take long before Willy was well on his way to drunk. He’d shut his phone off after the third drink, had allowed himself one petty post to his private instagram story before he did so, a selfie of him smiling up at the camera, his bare chest shining with sweat. He was trying not to think about whether or not he might have seen it, trying to resist the urge to turn his phone back on and check. He had been trying to focus instead on the warm air wrapping around him, the sounds of people talking around them, the scent of salt and the way that the muscles of Freddie’s thighs flexed as he lowered himself back onto the seat next to him, a fresh drink in hand. His hair was dark with sweat, his stomach muscles rising and falling with every breath he took, and– 

Willy jerked his eyes back to his own lap, taking a long pull on his drink. _Fuck_, he thought. He really, _really_ shouldn’t be having those sorts of thoughts, especially when he was kind of… well, with him and Kappy being whatever they were. Either way, you shouldn’t check out a teammate, but… but Willy couldn’t help the way his eyes slowly drifted back over to Freddie, who was now completely sprawled out over his lounger, book abandoned in favour of just lying in the sun. He smiled at the memory of Freddie seriously, carefully applying sunscreen before they headed outside, at how firm and hot his muscles had been beneath Willy’s fingers when he’d asked Willy to do his back and shoulders, how soft his skin was. Willy took a deep breath, pulling his mind away from the memory and back into the present. Behind Freddie’s sunglasses, Willy couldn’t even tell if he was awake, and he let himself look, just for a second, just for a minute. Freddie smiled, suddenly, tilting his head towards Willy, and Willy jerked, jumping to his feet.

“Um, my turn,” he said, before hurrying away across the deck. _No,_ he thought to himself again, _absolutely not, I’m not doing this_. 

When he returned, Freddie was sitting up, and took his cup without comment. Instead of taking a drink though, he tilted it towards Willy, and Willy couldn’t help the startled laugh that burst out of him. 

“Seriously?” he asked. 

“C’mon,” Freddie said, “indulge me.” 

“Fine,” Willy said with a laugh, before pausing to try and wrack his sluggish brain for something to say. Something funny, or witty, or– Freddie licked his lips, sucking the lower one into his own mouth so that it popped out, red and shiny with spit and–

“Sex,” Willy said, and watched in horror as Freddie’s mouth stretched into a grin. Willy braced himself for the chirps, but instead Freddie just tapped his glass against Willy’s. 

“To sex,” he said, downing his drink, watching as Willy followed suit. His head was spinning as Freddie pushed up his sunglasses, let Willy see as he ran his eyes up and down Willy’s whole body. 

“Want to head back to my room?” he asked. 

Willy didn’t hesitate when he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the most chaotic and least edited writing i've ever done lmao. hope y'all are enjoying. 
> 
> on twitter @ thotlander


	5. Chapter 5

Freddie’s hand was huge, his thumb barely pressing at the corner of Willy’s mouth even as his fingers managed to fully wrap around his jaw, holding him still as he slid his cock into Willy’s waiting mouth. Willy couldn’t stop his hands from moving, restless gestures, up and down Freddie’s thighs, up to his waist then back down. Freddie’s cock was huge inside of his mouth, and his jaw was beginning to ache from how long he’d been holding his mouth open but at the same time he never wanted to stop, never wanted to stop being the reason for the quick, panting breaths Freddie was letting out. His expression was so fucking intense as he stared down at Willy, as he eased Willy on and off of his cock, the wet, slick sounds of Willy struggling to take him in the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Spit ran down Willy’s chin as he moved his tongue against Freddie’s cock, feeling the firm press, the steady weight of him sliding across and down, down, down until he was gagging on it, and only then did Freddie pull back, allow oxygen to flow back down into Willy’s struggling lungs. He wasn’t even choking him but Willy still felt like he couldn’t breath, couldn’t think around how firmly Freddie was holding him, controlling him, taking his pleasure from him. When Freddie finally pulled out, it was to a wet, helpless gasp from Willy, spit clinging to the head of his dick for a brief second before it dripped down onto the floor. 

“You’re perfect, you know that right?” Freddie asked, running his thumb through the spit coating Willy’s chin, sticking it into Willy’s mouth for him to suck the wetness off of it. Willy could feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, unexpected, and he had to take in a deep, shaky breath to stop them from falling. _Fuck._

“I don’t know why anyone would ever want anyone other than you. You’re so beautiful Willy, and so good for me.” Willy choked out a breath that sounded more like a sob. 

“Stop,” he said. Freddie frowned, but let go of Willy’s chin. 

“Get onto the bed,” he said, “hands and knees.” Willy scrambled to obey, climbing into the middle of the cool white sheets, letting his head hang down as he settled into the familiar position. This, at least, he could do without feeling like he was going to choke on a feeling that he didn’t want to name, a grief he didn’t want to acknowledge. He didn’t know why he kept feeling like this, like something was dying, something that he needed to mourn, every time Freddie touched him, every time Freddie pulled him a little bit more apart, but he didn’t want to think about it anymore. Just wanted to _feel_, feel everything that Freddie was giving him, everything that Freddie was asking him to give. 

Freddie’s hands on his hip make him jump, but he relaxes again almost immediately as the familiar calluses of Freddie’s fingers press into his skin, moving him where Freddie wants him. The kiss Freddie presses to his tailbone is soft, a precursor but somehow not a sufficient warning for the unexpected feeling of his tongue pressing against Willy’s hole. Willy can’t help the noise that tears itself from his throat, has to bury his face in the sheets, overwhelmed with sensation. He hasn’t had – in such a long time, and he’d forgotten, how it felt, how amazing it was, the way it set his nerves on fire as the thick muscle of Freddie’s tongue teased at his hole. Long, hard licks were interspersed with his tongue pressing just inside of him, slowly edging him open. Freddie’s lips pressed against the skin of his taint, a soft kiss that makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a sob tear its way out his throat. His dick throbs, hanging heavy and hard between his legs, but he can’t untangle his hands from the sheets long enough to take ahold of himself, can only hold on, a desperate attempt to tether himself as Freddie pulls him apart. The sensations sparking through him are all he can think about, the feeling of Freddie’s spit sliding back down his taint as his tongue presses into him over and over again and Freddie’s jaw must be aching but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t pause, doesn’t let up for even a minute. Willy’s dragging in air in desperate gasps as he lays there, helpless to do anything but take the pleasure that Freddie is giving him.

When Freddie stops, he’s desperate, starts begging almost immediately. Freddie hushes him, voice gentle as he moves behind him, reaches over to snag the bottle off of the table. 

“Don’t worry Willy, I’ve got you. I’m gonna give you what you need.” 

Freddie’s fingers are insistent inside of him, thick and demanding but Willy knows, now, that they’re just a preview, a tease for how huge Freddie’s cock will be once he puts it inside of him. Still, the thick press of them sliding into him makes Willy’s breath freeze in his throat, makes his mouth work in a soundless gasp. They’re just so big, so unrelenting as Freddie thrusts them in and out of his already worked over hole, the slick sounds of lube and spit intermingling inside of him filling the room. It doesn’t take long before he’s asking, again, begging in a way he would be embarrassed about if he had any capacity to feel anything other than want and need any more, if he could think about anything other than how badly he needs Freddie inside of him _now_, how much he needs the thick, hot press of cock inside him– of Freddie’s cock. The weight of him splitting Willy open until he’s nothing but the give and take of their two bodies moving together and then finally, finally, Freddie is swearing above him and pulling his fingers out. There’s the sound of movement behind him but Willy doesn’t bother to move, just keeps his face resting on the mattress as his entire body sways, sparking with anticipation. Then Freddie’s hands are back on his hips and he’s finally, _finally_ sliding inside of Willy, Willy’s body opening up for him so easily, licked and fingered open and welcoming, taking and taking everything that Freddie is giving him, incapable of doing anything else. 

His fingers tangle in the sheets, mouth half-open in a forgotten gasp, and through half-open eyes he watches as his phone screen suddenly lights up on the table. 

“That him?” Freddie asks, like they were suddenly talking about it, like it mattered when Freddie was the one inside him, when it was Freddie’s cock sliding inside of him, slowly splitting him open. 

“Shut up,” Willy says. He feels Freddie’s lips against this shoulder then, a soft press, so at odds with the way he speaks next. 

“I don’t want you to think about him,” Freddie says, before abruptly pulling out and thrusting back in, making Willy cry out and arch his back. “He’s not here,” he says, shoving his cock impossibly deep inside of Willy. “He’s not the one making you feel like this, he’s not the one giving you what you want, what you need.” Freddie’s hips worked against Willy’s own, moving his cock in and out in fast, shallow thrusts. “I don’t want you to think about anything other than me,” he finishes, and snaps his hips again. Willy can’t do anything but gasp for air that can’t quite seem to ever fill his chest as Freddie settles into a punishing pace, forcing Willy open over and over again. His cock is so fucking big, impossibly big, big enough that Willy feels like he shouldn’t be able to fit it inside of him, shouldn’t be able to take it but he can, can’t stop asking for it with every stuttering breath that barely made its way into his lungs. Was letting Freddie split him open over and over again, was letting him drive his cock deep inside of him again and again. 

“God Freddie, _please,_” he said, twisting his head so his face was pressing into the sheets, fingers still desperately tangled in the sheets next to his head, hanging on as Freddie jerked him back and forth across the bed. 

“Yeah,” Freddie said, his own voice shaking slightly in a way that sent a fission of pride down Willy’s spine. “That’s it, take it. You look so fucking beautiful like this Willy, wish you could see it, how good you look split open on my cock, taking it so well. Your pretty little hole, stuffed with cock, filled up with it. You love it, don’t you? Love the way I give it to you.”

“Yes,” Willy whimpered, “yes Freddie, please, so good, god.” 

“Does anyone else give it to you this good?” Willy gasps, Freddie’s cock hitting that spot inside of him that sends sparks flashing across the back of his eyelids, that makes his body jerk and clench around Freddie’s cock, makes both of them moan. 

“Tell me Willy,” Freddie says, snapping his hips viciously forward, “does anyone else fuck you this good?” 

“No,” Willy says around a moan, feeling his knees slide across the sheets with how hard Freddie is pounding into him. “No one, just you.” 

“How about _him_?” he asks, and Willy chokes, feels like he’s going to start crying. He doesn’t know, why Freddie would– 

Freddie’s hand closes around the back of Willy’s neck, huge and controlling and pressing him down, holding him in place as he thrusts forward, so deep, so hard, unravelling Willy more and more with every pass of his cock in and out of his body. 

“How about him?” Freddie asks again and Willy can’t, he doesn’t want to answer, but– but Freddie’s grip tightens on his neck and Willy answers before he even realizes that he’s made the decision to answer, the truth falling from his lips like a curse, like a benediction. 

“No, not him, no one but you Freddie, god, Freddie _please_.”

“Yeah, fuck, Willy, baby just like that, god.” Freddie groans like he’s been hit, letting go of the back of Willy’s neck in favour of grabbing ahold of his hips, dragging him back onto his cock just as roughly, with just as much strength as he’s driving forward into Willy. He’s not sure he’s ever been fucked like this, like Freddie is trying to consume him, to hold him and own him and give him everything he wants and everything he didn’t realize he needed. 

“So fucking perfect,” Freddie says as he speeds up, strokes becoming less steady and Willy finally releases his desprate grip on the sheets to reach down between his legs. He sobs when he finally takes ahold of his own cock, and he barely manages to even stroke himself once, twice, before he’s cuming, cum spurting thick and hot onto the sheets beneath him as Freddie’s hips stutter against him. His hole twitches, muscles clenching down as his orgasm rolls through him, and Freddie moans. “Willy, god, you–” Freddie trails off as his hips slam forward one, two, three final times before he stills, cumming deep inside of Willy, filling the condom and for the first time in his life Willy finds himself wishing that the guy he was with wasn’t wearing a condom, wishes he could feel Freddie’s cum filling him, staining his insides and claiming him.

He checks his phone, after they get out of the shower, Freddie still in the bathroom brushing his teeth. There’s no messages from him after all, just a dumb meme from Alex. He bites his lip, thinks about messaging him first, but then Freddie’s coming out of the bathroom, is smiling at him, and he sets his phone down instead, face down, and lets Freddie herd him under the covers.


	6. Chapter 6

Willy spends the entire last day at the resort feeling antsy, like he can't stay still, can’t focus on anything for longer than a couple of minutes. It’s not even his last day, is the thing, but he keeps catching himself thinking of it as the last day anyways. He’d watched Freddie pack that morning from his spot wrapped up in the blankets, eyes barely opened as Freddie had methodically sorted through his clothing, putting what he’d need for the All-Star weekend on the top of the bag. His own stuff was still scattered across his room, a messiness that felt like a performance, a false set-up of occupancy, a denial of the fact that he’d somehow spent most of the week in Freddie’s room instead. Freddie’s room, in contrast, was neat even before he had started packing, the care he took with his surroundings comforting Willy in some small, strange way. Even as he’d fucked Willy on every possible surface, he’d still ensured that there was no extra mess for the cleaning staff, that his own possessions stayed exactly where he’d decided they belonged. That even Willy himself, afterwards, was showered and wrapped up in a bathrobe and put wherever Freddie wanted him. 

They spend the day on the course, the sun beating down on them, warming Willy’s skin and making him squint as he watched Freddie frown in concentration, carefully lining up his shot. Willy watches the way that Freddie’s arms move as he swings, the stretch of his pants across his thighs and swallows, trying to clear his throat. Freddie catches him once, winks at him when he does, and Willy has to look away to stop himself from turning bright red. 

The course is great, well worth it’s reputation, and Willy’s feeling pretty good about how he’s playing – not perfect of course, but still better than some of the others so he’ll take it. Freddie, well. Freddie was doing his best, just like he always was. Despite those best efforts though, halfway through the day he ends up below them in a sand trap, swearing and sweating as the rest of them watch from atop the hill. Willy is distracted from the idle conversation by the buzz of his phone in his pocket, and his stomach sinks when he pulls it out and sees the name on the screen. For a brief second he considers not answering, but he swipes anyways, hating himself just a little bit for doing it. He gestures an apology at everyone else, wanders a couple meters away. 

“Hey.” Kappy’s voice on the other end of the line is tinny with the distance, and Willy has to close his eyes against the clench of his stomach at the familiar sound. 

“Hey,” Willy says. There’s a moment of silence before he speaks again. 

“I haven’t heard from you,” he says, voice vaguely accusatory. Willy frowns, looking out over the rolling green hills of the course. 

“I haven’t heard from you either,” he counters. 

“Yeah, well,” Kappy says, and Willy hears it suddenly, the unspoken _but you always call first; but you need me more than I need you_. There’s a pause, and Kappy continues. “So like, how’s the trip going? You haven’t posted on your instagra–”

“Did you actually need something,” Willy interrupts, voice sharp in a way that Kappy obviously wasn’t expecting, his surprise obvious in his voice when he replies. It surprises Willy too, to be honest, a rush of anger that is unfamiliar but not necessarily unwelcome. 

“No. What? I just… I just wanted to check in with you. I miss you.”

“Why?” Willy says, voice caustic and Jesus, _Jesus_, what is he doing? 

“What?”

“Why do you miss me? It’s not like you’re alone, right?” Willy feels the words drop from his mouth like they’re inevitable, summoned by someone else from somewhere deep within him and spilling from his tongue without his permission.

“No,” Kappy says, “but it’s not– I just– I can’t miss my best friend?” Willy swallows, throat tight. 

“I guess you could,” he said. “So maybe you should call whoever that is.” He hangs up before Kappy has the chance to do anything more than stutter out a clumsy _what the fu–_. He’s surprised to realize that he’s shaking slightly, blinking back tears, his breath coming quick and short. He stares into the green distance, forces himself to take a deep breath, then another, and another, pulling himself together the same way he does after bad games when he has to talk to the media. Thankfully he’s had more than enough practice with that – he only needs a minute before he’s able to turn around, rejoin the group with a smile that he prays looks real. Freddie has apparently managed to escape the sand trap while Willy was on the phone because he’s standing with the rest of the guys, waiting for Willy to finish up so that they can all move on. The look he gives Willy in return to his forced smile is both somehow inscrutable and yet intense enough to Willy’s smile falter. He grabs Willy, when they’re heading back to the carts, pulls him so that they drop behind everyone else. 

“You okay?” he asks, voice soft, a stark contrast to the firm grip he keeps on Willy. 

“I’m fine,” Willy says with a smile that hurts to form. Freddie’s eyes scan his face, his expression as unreadable as Willy is fighting to make his own, before he finally releases Willy’s arm. 

“Come back to my room tonight,” he says, and it’s not a question. 

They stay out at dinner later than they have been, the other guys wanting to celebrate with Freddie, toast his upcoming time at the All-Star weekend, his first time being selected. Freddie takes the compliments and chirps with a small, pleased smile, letting the guys push against his shoulders as they hand him drinks. Willy feels bad, for a moment, when he follows Freddie up to his room afterwards, spares a brief thought for how early Freddie is getting up the next day, how little sleep he’s going to get, but then Freddie is crowding him up against the wall of his hotel room, the door barely shut behind them, and Willy forgets to think about anything at all. Freddie’s gaze on him is intense, consuming, and Willy feels himself begin to crack apart under the force of it. He doesn’t know how he’s going to break though, what formations the shattered pieces of himself might make, and most importantly, doesn’t want to find out. So he does what he does best and leans up to press his lips against Freddie’s. 

Freddie kisses him back immediately, easily, reassuredly, his giant frame boxing Willy in, surrounding him and holding him still as he kisses him, slow and sweet. His hands come to rest on Willy’s hips as his teeth gently graze the delicate skin of Willy’s lip. It tastes like a kindness that Willy doesn’t want, a gentleness he can’t conceive of and so Willy tries to deepen the kiss, reaches up to begin to unbutton Freddie’s shirt. It’ll be ok, it’ll be better, when Freddie’s fucking him, when Willy doesn’t have to think or feel about anything other than being fucked and– but Freddie stops him, grip on his wrists firm as he tugs them back down, breaking the kiss to stare down at Willy. He keeps his hands on Willy’s wrist but doesn’t touch him otherwise, just looks at him. Willy looks back up at him, suddenly overwhelmed with a horrible swirling mix of confusion and embarrassment. Did Freddie not want him anymore? Or did he not–

“Slow down,” Freddie says, stopping Willy’s thoughts in their tracks as he releases Willy’s wrists in favour of beginning to unbutton Willy’s shirt instead. “There’s no rush. Just let me...” He trails off, attention caught on the stubborn buttons of Willy’s shirt. Willy doesn’t make any move to stop him, or help him; just stands there, arms hanging helplessly at his sides and breath shaking as he watches with wide eyes as Freddie slowly works his way down the front of Willy’s shirt. When he reaches the end, he slides his hands up Willy’s torso, making him shiver at the heavy, warm weight of them, before pushing the shirt off of Willy’s shoulders. He hasn’t undone the cuffs so it catches Willy’s wrists but Willy barely notices because Freddie’s hands are cupping his jaw and he’s finally kissing Willy again, finally licking into his mouth. Willy almost whines, leans up into Freddie, reaching up to take ahold of Freddie’s elbows. He’s powerless to do anything but hold on as Freddie begins to take him apart with nothing more than his lips and tongue, his breath hot against Willy’s cheek as he turns him, slowly walks him backwards to the bed. He pushes Willy until he sits on the edge of the bed, painfully gentle. Willy watches as Freddie kneels, unties Willy’s shoes one at a time, sliding them off and setting them neatly by the foot of the bed. He takes off Willy’s socks next, lifting one leg to press a gentle kiss to Willy’s ankle, keeping eye contact with Willy the whole time. Willy makes a sound that he doesn’t think he’s ever heard from himself before, something trapped and pained as he finds himself suddenly, strangely blinking back tears. Freddie’s expression doesn’t betray any reaction of his own though. He just keeps going, doesn’t comment on it as he reaches up and undoes Willy’s fly. Willy lifts his hips, gives Freddie the space to pull down his briefs and pants as one and then he’s naked, stripped down and exposed aside from the shirt still caught at his wrists, Freddie kneeling before him still fully dressed. Willy feels the sudden urge to cover up, as if this is somehow worse, somehow more vulnerable, than any other time he’s been naked in front of Freddie. And maybe it is, if the careful way Freddie is watching his face is any indication, if the noise that once again slips from Willy’s lips when Freddie turns his head to press a gentle kiss to the inside of Willy’s knee is any sign. 

Willy’s breath comes in stops and starts as Freddie moves up the inside of his leg, lips dragging soft and slow. He’s surprised, in a way, when he notices that his cock is hard, hanging heavy between his legs. Arousal is a part of the confusing swirl moving through him, filling him up – a large part sure, but also somehow one of the least important ones. Or maybe it’s just that it’s the only one that Willy completely understands that he can ignore it, because when Freddie wraps his lips around the head of his cock it abruptly moves to the forefront, a fire sparking to life, making him gasp and twitch. Freddie moves his tongue over and around him and Willy can’t do anything but hold on to the edge of the bed and stare down at the top of Freddie’s head between his legs, the red shock of his hair illuminated only by the low light of the lamp on the bedside table. Freddie’s own hands have slid up to grip Willy’s thighs, fingers digging into the twitching muscle, holding Willy still. Not that Willy’s moving, doesn’t think he could if he wanted too, every part of his being far too focused on the way that Freddie hums as he sucks Willy down even deeper. Freddie doesn’t rush, doesn’t speed up, just takes Willy a little bit deeper with every pass, as methodical, as intentional as he is with every other task that he takes on. He just goes down, further and further until his nose is pressing into the short hair at the base of Willy’s cock, until Willy can’t breath for the feeling of it. His grip on the edge of the mattress is almost painful but you couldn’t get him to let go for anything, feels like he might fly away if he loses that, the small bit of grounding he has left, the only thing tethering him to the here and now. Freddie pulls off, and then back down, no hesitation, no slow build up this time and Willy can’t stand it, can’t bear how good it feels, how much Freddie is making him feel. The slow drag of his lips, the wet heat of his mouth, the small, sticky noises that escape him as he slides up and down Willy’s cock. It’s so much, and then all at once, too much, and Willy barely manages to find his voice to gasp out a warning. Freddie ignores him, just takes him back down and down until Willy can’t stop himself as he jerks and spills inside of Freddie’s mouth. His eyes slide shut as pleasure sparks across his vision, as every part of him shakes with the sensation of it, his breath ragged and desperate in the silence of the room. He can’t find the energy to reopen them even when Freddie pulls off, just sits there, swaying slightly as Freddie’s spit slowly cools on his cock. He heards Freddie move around the room, finally forcing his eyes open when he feels Freddie’s hand stroke over his hair. Freddie’s smile is soft as he looks down at Willy. 

“You ok?” he asks, and Willy can only nod. “Wanna lie down?” Willy doesn’t respond, just lets himself tip backwards. It makes Freddie laugh, and Willy smiles up at the ceiling. He feels a tug at his wrist and looks down to see Freddie finally undoing the buttons at the cuffs of Willy’s shirt. They untangle him from that final remnant of his outfit, and Willy reluctantly puts in the effort to crawl into the middle of the bed, burying himself under the cover. There’s still more movement from Freddie, and with his eyes shut it feels almost familiar, almost like something he could keep. Finally, he feels the bed dip behind him, and then Freddie’s hand on his hip, the heat of Freddie’s body pressing against his. Freddie’s wearing boxers and Willy makes a noise, tilting his head backwards so he can look at Freddie as he presses his ass backwards against Freddie’s crotch. 

“Don’t you want to?” he asks, and Freddie leans forward to press a soft kiss to Willy’s lips. 

“Nah,” he says with a smile, “I’m good.” Willy frowns. 

“I don’t… but you didn’t… did you?” 

“No,” Freddie says, “but I don’t need to. I just wanted to make you feel good.”

“Oh,” Willy says and he doesn’t get it, not really, but it makes something warm bloom in his chest anyways, and Freddie’s expression is open and honest so he just lets his head fall back onto the pillow, lets Freddie wrap his arms around him. 

“Night Willy,” Freddie whispers. 

“Night,” Willy says, and he falls asleep with the ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: this entire fic is just gonna be freddie fucking the stupid right out of willy
> 
> me:
> 
> me:
> 
> me: *writes the softest sex scene possible*


	7. Chapter 7

The first day back is crazy – it always is, as if after seven days away they’ve all collectively forgotten how to act, what they need, where to be and at what time. Willy is almost late for every part of his day, from breakfast to getting on the ice, so the first time he sees Freddie is through the bars of Freddie’s helmet. He can’t see much of his face, but when their eyes meet Willy can still see the way the corners of Freddie’s eyes crinkle in a smile. Willy smiles in return without thinking, a large, uninhibited thing, something warm and soft sparking in his chest at the sight of the other man. He missed him, he realizes, even though it was only a couple of days, and not just for how amazing the sex had been (though he would be lying if he said that wasn’t part of it). It was the way that Freddie was so serious until he wasn’t, his quiet, steadying presence, the way he’d give Willy all his attention when he was talking, even if it was just about something ridiculous like the new jacket he wanted, but wasn’t sure was worth the chirping. How he acted like Willy was _worth_ taking seriously, how he never told Willy he was being weird. Like it, even. 

“Hey there all-star,” he said, skating up to Freddie when he was taking a break, chugging down a bottle of gatorade by the boards. 

“Hey,” Freddie said back, and this time Willy could see his entire face, got to watch the smile take over the entire thing and oh, there was that same helpless smile stealing over Willy’s face, painfully open. 

“You look really good,” Willy said, then stopped, “er, did look good. At the weekend. In the competitions. Uh.” _Jesus_. Freddie’s smile just got wider. 

“I missed you,” he said, so honest it takes Willy’s breath away. 

“Oh,” he said, feeling like he just got checked, all of the air knocked out of him at once, and that’s not enough, that’s not– he needs to say _something_, but Freddie just knocks his glove against Willy’s helmet like he knows exactly what Willy’s thinking anyways. 

Willy didn’t wait for Freddie after practice but he didn’t _not_ wait for him. He was just… he was just paused, ok? Checking Instagram before he got down to the garage because the wifi was shitty down there and it wasn’t like he could look at it while driving and, well, if someone happened to leave the trainers while he was still there that would just be a coinci–

“Hey,” a voice interrupted his thoughts, but it wasn’t the one he was hoping for, and he reluctantly raised his head to meet Kappy’s gaze. The expression on the other man’s face was half-way between angry and hurt, and Willy felt guilt spark in his gut despite his best intentions. 

“Hey Kappy,” he said, weakly. Kappy frowned. He waited a minute, but when Willy didn’t say anything else, he huffed out an exasperated breath.

“Seriously dude?” Willy shrugged. “You go off on me for no fucking reason and now just what, have nothing to say to my face?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Fucking _something_. What the hell was that?” Willy shrugged again. Kappy ran his hand back through his hair, shaking his head. “Jesus Willy, it’s always gotta be fucking something with you, doesn’t it.” And that– that wasn’t fair, probably, except maybe it was. Willy didn’t know why he couldn’t ever just decide what he wanted, couldn’t ever just fucking _say_ it, didn’t know if he was talking about himself or Kappy. 

“I guess I was just tired,” he said, and Kappy scoffed. 

“What, like you didn’t get enough sleep so you decided to be a bitch to me? Nice Willy, that’s ju–”

“No,” Willy said, interrupting. “Tired like I’m sick of being jerked around by you.” Kappy’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. 

“What are you saying?” he said, and Willy stepped closer, dropping his voice to a hiss. They shouldn’t be doing this here, or maybe anywhere, maybe not at all, ever, but it was happening, it was too late, the words swelling up from somewhere deep inside of him, a roiling mass that he was helpless to stop from clawing its way up his throat, from spilling from his tongue. 

“I’m saying I’m tired of you fucking me on the side, I’m tired of you acting like you want me and then going right back to your girlfriends, over and over again.” 

“Will, that’s not– I’m not–”

“No you are,” Willy interrupted. “And it’s not fair, to her or to me or even to you really. You need to fucking decide what you really want Kappy, and I’m tired of waiting around for you to make that decision.” 

“Will,” Kappy said, his expression genuinely shattered in a way that made nausea roll through Willy’s stomach. He opened his mouth, maybe to apologize, maybe to take it back, but then he caught movement over Kappy’s shoulder, sees Freddie stepping into the hallway, freezing when he sees them, when he sees how close they’re standing together, the tension that Willy is sure is just radiating off of both of them. He tore his eyes away from the other man, focusing back on Kappy. 

“I’m not waiting anymore,” he repeated. “I’m not. I can’t.” 

“Willy, please,” Kappy said, something that might be fear winding its way through his voice. “Let’s just– come home with me, ok, she’s not here right now and we can talk about this, we can figure it out, you don’t have to–”

“I’m not coming home with you,” Willy said, looking back over Kappy’s shoulder again. “I’ve got plans.”

“You’ve got…” Kappy started, trailing off when he realized that Willy was no longer looking at him. He glanced back over his shoulder, face twisting when he saw Freddie. “Seriously?” he said, and the fear is gone, anger taking its place so easily it was like it was never really there, just a phantom of a real emotion, a mask covering up the truth lying just underneath. “Him? What, you spend a week bending over for someone else and that’s it? You’re done with me? Everything that we’ve been through, everything that we–”

“There’s no ‘we’,” Willy snapped. “There’s _you_, and when it’s convenient for you or you’re bored or you need someone to pretend to have feelings for, then there’s me.”

“I’m not… it’s not _pretending_. Willy, I lo–”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Willy said, suddenly so angry it made him dizzy, and he had never wanted to hit Kappy before but god did he want to in that moment. “Don’t you fucking dare Kappy, you don’t fucking love anyone other than yourself.” He laughed, shaky, running a hand through his own hair. “You don’t love anyone,” he repeated, quieter, recognizing the truth in his own words for the first time maybe ever. “And you definitely don’t love me. And I was an idiot to wait around for that change.”

“Willy,” Kappy said, his voice hollow, expression as cracked open as if Willy had actually hit him. Willy shook his head. 

“I can’t talk to you anymore. You need to figure out what you want, Kappy, but it’s not me. It was never gonna be me,” the last is spoken under his breath, more to himself than Kappy. 

“What if I leave her?” Kappy asked, expression helpless and stunned like he somehow never thought that this could happen, and maybe it wouldn’t have, it not for– well. “Willy, please.” Willy snorted. 

“Fuck off Kappy,” he said. “We both know you’re not gonna do that and I don’t know if it’s just that you don’t want to… that you can’t deal with being with a man or me or anyone at all maybe but I genuinely don’t give a shit about what you do because it’s never going to be with me, not again.”

“Well fuck you too William,” Kappy spat. “Like you’re so fucking perfect, you’re the one who always came back to me, you’re the one who never gave a shit about her or any of the other ones. You’re just as selfish, just as scared.” Willy looked at him, and it was like the first time he’d seen him, _really_ seen him, and he couldn’t believe how much time he’d spent worrying about him, how much time he’d spent wishing and waiting and hoping. Willy opened his mouth again, maybe to tell him that, maybe to argue.

“I have to go,” he said instead, stepping around the other man, locking eyes instead with the man waiting for him down the hallway. He’d given enough energy to Kappy, and there was someone else he’d much rather pay attention to. 

Freddie’s expression was concerned as Willy drew level with him, not hesitating before reaching an arm out, wrapping it around Willy’s shoulders and drawing the other man tightly against him. Freddie easily fell into step with him, and Willy resisted the urge to turn around, to see if Kappy was watching, to see how he was reacting. He was done. He was _done_.

“You ok?” Freddie asked as they left the hallway, and Kappy, behind. Willy nodded, exhaling out a shaky break. 

“Yeah,” he said, and was surprised to realize that he meant it. “Yeah, I am.” He tilted his head up just in time to see Freddie’s expression transform from one of worry to a soft smile, so warm that Willy could have sworn he could feel the gentle heat of it pressing over his skin like sunlight. 

“Good,” Freddie said and yeah. Maybe not quite yet, not all the way but. It was good. Freddie glanced around them, then bent over to press a quick kiss against Willy’s lips, there and gone in a breath. 

When he pulled away it was with a smile, small and happy and so painfully real. Willy let his heart soar and soar and soar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's all folks! hope you enjoyed :) 
> 
> [find me on twitter](https://twitter.com/thotlander)


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